Journalist hopeful, Piper Rowe is searching for a story–the perfect lead to get her a coveted spot on a prestigious journalism team. Running into a cross-country biker group just might be the serendipitous happening she needs.

The only problem?

The sexy and protective gatekeeper, Brody Whitehurst doesn’t want her tagging along, refusing to let her document the trip. But after a threatening altercation riles him, Brody relents, suddenly feeling the need to protect Piper. As Piper and Brody begin their quest to realize their dreams, they discover running is never the answer. Can two people, one with a broken past, one with an uncertain future, find what they’re looking for on the open road?

This is Part One of a Three Part Contemporary Romance Trilogy. This story contains adult situations, themes, and explicit sexual content.

EXCERPT

As luck would have it, the biker came up behind us. Even though I understood my mother’s warning, it didn’t stop me from wondering what he looked like without his helmet. I took another peek in the mirror as he pulled it off. Jackpot. Whoa, was he smoking hot.

“Piper, are you listening?” my mother said interrupting my gawking.

“Yes?” I lied.

She let out a loud sigh. “I said Aunt Luna called and told me she can’t hire you for the whole summer. She’s off to meet her new online boyfriend in Santa Fe.”

“What?! She never….” I stumbled.

My mother made what looked like a smirk though it was hard to tell. “I told you not to trust her. Don’t worry, I told her off good on the phone for building your dreams up and crushing them just like your fa—”

“I’ll pump,” I announced, cutting her off. I pushed the door open with more force than I intended and heard a thump before I got out

“Watch it!” a deep voice grumbled.

Oh no. I closed it back quickly and stared down at the dark boots in front of me.

“I’m sorry. That must’ve hurt,” I said pathetically. God. Why did I say that? Of course it did!

“It did,” he confirmed.

My eyes moved away from the boots and up to the dark, denim-encased legs of the man I’d almost maimed with the car door. Once my gaze leveled on the leather jacket, my heart sped up. This had to be the biker. His jaw line was square and peppered with stubble. His dark hair fell across his forehead in waves, and his face was perfectly symmetrical—straight brows and nose. His cheekbones, high and sharp, gave him a hard look that contrasted with his smooth, tan skin. His lips parted—exquisitely shaped luscious lips. I could only dream he was in the same state of gawk, but when I met his large silver-gray eyes, I wasn’t assured. They were clouded, like a blanketed sky, with a touch of soft mystery, and they were gazing down at me. Down on me, actually. I was five seven, and I would have guessed his height at over six feet when he crowded in front of me. Of what I was assured: he was breathtaking.

The horn blared, and it made me jump. He steadied me. A shiver coursed through my body from contact, though his hands were warming on my waist.

“Jumpy little sprite,” he said and grinned, showing off a pair of dimples in his cheeks.

I wasn’t about to remove his lingering hands though I was finding it difficult to control my breathing. I was willing to pass out, right there, to keep them on me. I was totally lust drunk—not just because I’d not had sex for a while. His head tilted down. I followed his eyes to my nipples, peaked in the thin fabric of my silk blouse. He took in a sharp breath, and I shifted on my feet. Okay. Sex hadn’t happened for a long while. But I’d bed him without three dates.

The sound of the window going down and my mother’s shrill voice broke the moment apart. “What are you waiting for? Here. Take my platinum card and hurry.”

He let go of me like I had burned him. The smile on his face melted away as he glanced between my mother’s pointed glare and me. I inhaled as he flicked his gaze at me once more before cutting through the cars to the station without another backward glance.

My face heated as I took the card from my mother’s outstretched hand. I turned to look at the pump. “ATM down. Pay at the window.”

“It takes cash,” I grumbled, handing it back to her.

She pulled out a couple of crisp bills and handed it to me. “There is no need to take that tone with me. Hurry up. We have to go.”

I walked across the island to take my place in line at the gas station window behind the gorgeous stranger. I had almost reached the space in line behind him when a young woman cut in front of me and yelled.

“Brody!” I recognized her as the woman with the bright pink helmet, now a bright pink bobbed hairstyle. She was wearing a black and pink leather suit fitting her like a second skin on her thin frame. She wrapped her arms around his waist.

“Calm down, Seren,” he said to her before giving her a hug. His tone had a deep rumble. A sexy rumble.

I lowered my head. Of course, a man that good looking would be taken. I could only imagine how bad she would feel if she saw his hands on my waist. I folded my arms.

Amélie S. Duncan writes contemporary, erotic romances with a dark edge. Her inspiration comes from many sources including her life experiences and travels. She lives on the West Coast of the United States with her husband.

Find out more about her books by going to her website.

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